


A Card for Every Occasion

by chasingriver



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9710954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: If there's one thing Arthur knows, it's how to create a greeting card that works. If there's one thing he *doesn't* know, it's how to deal with his "quirky" new co-worker.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oceaxe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/gifts).



Arthur came back from his two-week vacation to find the desk next to his unoccupied. To say he wasn’t happy about it was an understatement.

“What d’ya mean he just left?” he ranted to Fischer, the head of the greeting card division. “We were in the middle of doing the Valentine’s layouts. That’s bigger than Christmas!”

“Some internet startup lured him in with stock options. Want him to do their website.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Arthur muttered, but he wasn’t surprised. It was hard to hang on to anyone these days, with tech companies offering free meals and dry-cleaning to their employees. And the money, of course.

“Don’t worry, I found a new designer,” Fischer said. “He starts tomorrow.”

“You hired someone without letting me interview him?”

“You work on the sentiments, not the covers.”

“— but they have to mesh, or the card doesn’t work!” Arthur cried. “You know that!”

“He’s an internal hire, used to do the blank cards. Had some decent stuff in his portfolio.”

“Photography isn’t design,” Arthur muttered, but didn’t press the issue any further. “So who is this boy genius? Do I know him?”

Fischer grinned. “I doubt it. I think you’d remember him.”

“Oh god. Don’t tell me he’s _quirky._ ” He said the word like it had been dipped in acid.

“A little. I’m sure you’ll get along great.” Fischer practically dared him to argue the point. “His name’s Eames.”

“Eames what?”

“Just Eames.”

“You’re kidding — you’re not kidding are you?” He gave Fischer a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll get along great.”

He got in early the next morning, hoping to gain a subtle level of superiority by being there when Eames got in. It didn’t work. An annoyingly handsome man already sat at the desk next to his.

“Hello,” the man said. “I’m Eames.”

His gut reaction was to reply, ‘I know,’ but there was no point in getting things started on the wrong foot. He forced a smile. “I’m Arthur. Fischer said you’d be starting today.”

“Can’t wait. I’ve got so many ideas.”

Arthur frowned. “… design ideas?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “No, that’ll be easy. I’m talking about the sentiments. No one’s ever let me loose with those before.”

“No … you’ve got it wrong, Fischer hired you to do covers. Design work. I do the copy.”

Eames leaned back in his chair, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I don’t think so. He specifically said you could use the help.”

Arthur’s forced smile turned into a glare. “He did, did he?” He was going to have to revisit this with Fischer, because no one got to work on copy without his permission.

“Anyway, I thought this guy left you in the lurch for Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes, for designs. I have the copy under control.”

Eames looked at him like he was crazy. “I know it’s not my place to tell you your job, but you do realize copy and design have to mesh, right?”

“I’m aware of that —” he wanted to call him ‘Mr. Eames’ to be snotty and condescending, but realized he didn’t know if Eames was his last name or his first. “What is your name, anyway?”

“Eames. Weren’t we just introduced?”

“Yes, but is that your first or your last name?”

“Just Eames,” he said with a smug grin.

Arthur wanted to punch him. “Fine, _Mr. Eames_ , I’ve been doing my job long enough that I’m well aware of how it’s done. I’m your boss and you’ll be reporting to me.”

“Ooh,” Eames said, with a little twitch of his eyebrows that was far more salacious than was necessary, “that sounds promising.”

“And I demand respect,” Arthur said, feeling very much like he’d lost that battle about thirty seconds ago.

“And all my respect you shall have,” Eames said, tipping his head in a little bow of acknowledgement.

“Yeah, good,” said Arthur, as he watched Eames play with a pen, something which had no right being so distracting. “Respect,” he said again, more for his own focus than anything else.

Eames continued smiling at him, and Arthur realized he was doomed.

The rest of the day wasn’t too bad. Eames seemed to be a good worker, quieter than he expected. He got him started on the pile of unfinished designs Enzo had left, and he thought perhaps their rocky start had been an anomaly. Maybe he wasn’t as quirky as Fischer seemed to think.

He came in the next morning to find Eames already there — what time did he get in, anyway? — and a card mockup on his desk.

On the front was a picture — no, a photograph, and he wasn’t sure where he’d sourced _that_ — of a _chocolate_ hand grenade. The text read, _“My heart is like a chocolate grenade …”_

And on the inside, _“… full of cream and ready to explode!”_

As if the whole thing wasn’t blatant enough, the internal text was set on a cream-colored ‘splatter’ graphic on a red background. It looked like, well, like _something_ had exploded and was dripping down the page, but it wasn’t a cream-filled chocolate. It just reminded him he hadn’t gotten laid recently.

He held it up, speechless, shaking it at Eames in a wordless question.

“What, you don’t like it?”

“How —” he sputtered, “how is this even remotely appropriate? _‘Full of cream and ready to explode’?_ Oh my god, Eames! You do know we work for Hallmark, right?”

“Yes, and your sentiments could really use some life, if you ask me.”

“God. No wonder they had you in blank cards. I’m _not_ making sex jokes in the Valentine’s Day cards.”

“Where would you suggest making them? Seems like the perfect place.”

“ _‘A chocolate grenade’?_ Really? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You know, like the Cadbury eggs —”

“— which don’t explode and they’re not filled with …” Arthur trailed off as he realized that was _exactly_ what the white cream in the Cadbury eggs looked like. He’d never be able to see Easter the same way again. “Oh, god.”

“I think it could appeal to a younger demographic.”

“Well I certainly don’t expect senior citizens to be sending jizz-filled grenades to each other!”

“Depends on the couple, I suppose,” Eames said, mildly. “Also, ‘jizz,’ Arthur? I would have expected something a little less colloquial from you.”

“I … stop that. We’re not debating semantics.”

“Of course not. That would just be silly. Here, maybe you’ll like this one better.” He passed over another mock-up.

This one had a stock photo of a young couple, sitting in a convertible in front of a sunset. Very 1950s. Tasteful. It had potential. On the front, it read, _“I’d like to drive you home …”_

Arthur opened it, hopeful.

_“… and I don’t even own a car.”_

“Oh my _god,_ Eames!”

“What? It could be perfectly innocent! A commentary about the increased reliance on public transportation.”

“ _‘I’d like to drive you home’_ isn’t a commentary on anything —“

“Oh, I don’t know,” Eames cut in, “don’t sell yourself short. That arse of yours would be perfect for driving.”

After a few moments of shocked silence, Arthur said, “I don’t know which is worse: the half dozen HR violations you just committed or how awful you are at writing cards.”

“You’re right, that was completely inappropriate. I’m sorry.”

Arthur frowned at him.

“What if I told you I was trying to seduce you with my sense of humor?” Eames said, looking hopeful. “I never meant them as real cards.” Then he handed over two boxes of mock-ups — the innocuous mush they normally published — the finished cards from Enzo’s backlog.

Arthur flipped through the cards. They were good, and Eames was a rock star to get them done so quickly. “Yeah, that helps.” Something scratched at the back of his mind, competing with the phrase ‘trying to seduce you,’ which he was still attempting to deal with. He finally figured out what it was. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Where’d you get the grenade photo? Did you photoshop it to look like chocolate?”

Eames beamed at him, all teeth. “I built one.”

“Sorry … built?”

“I 3D-printed a candy mold for a grenade and cast it in chocolate, then photographed it.”

“Christ. How long did that take you?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“So you spent … I’m guessing hours —”

“— all so I could use the phrase _‘cream-filled and ready to explode’_ and hope you’d find it amusing enough to go out on a date with me. Yes.”

“Wow,” Arthur said, at a loss for anything more.

“Did it work?”

“It kind of did. I’m free tonight.”

“Really? Wonderful!”

“Yeah,” he said. “You know, normally I hate Valentine’s Day cards? They’re so sappy. But these are sort of charming, in a filthy kind of way.”

Eames grinned at him. “That’s what I was hoping.”

“I think we should pitch a whole line of these to Fischer. Under a different imprint, of course.”

“Tap into the ‘cynical and oversexed’ demographic?” Eames said.

“We could call it _‘Cards for people who remember what sex is.’_ ”

“You might need something catchier.”

“We can work on that. Do you think you can come up with more of these?”

“Oh, darling. You have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> For oceaxe's prompt "Hallmark" in the _Eames Stupid Cupid 2017_ challenge. 
> 
> Thanks to youcantsaymylastname and kate_the_reader for looking at this for me! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [chasingriversong](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com).


End file.
